I don’t know if it’s just me (I have a hunch it’s not), but I’ve had bouts of feeling helpless in the last few weeks.
I listen. I let the stuff go from my mind to my heart and back to my mind, in search of an antidote. But very little bubbles up, which isn’t like me. It makes me uncomfortable.
And yet, I believe in gifts. Particularly in gifts wrapped in weird paper.
Strangely enough, I’ve been in Mexico since the 20th of January, since “that day.” I didn’t exactly plan it that way, it just happened—the way life sometimes makes things happen just right, with a smile and a wink. When I left my home island, I was disappointed to be missing the Women’s March.
But when I arrived in the sweet little fishing village a few hours later, I was amazed to be immediately invited to another march—beachside, colorful and passionate, with signs in English and Spanish (...)
SCARED OF THE SACRED